


The Kids are Fine

by Suchthingbutnever



Series: Mommy!Verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Family Feels, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Slash, Smut, daddy!Liam, mommy!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchthingbutnever/pseuds/Suchthingbutnever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'The kids are alright', in which Zayn is pregnant. Again. And has to deal with the daily shenanigans on top of it. (Domestic!AU, Mommy!Zayn, Daddy!Liam, Teenage!Louis, Kid!Niall, Baby!Harry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kids are Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, Warning: for Male Pregnancy.

Zayn muffles his groan in the pillow.

 

Next to him, Liam is snoring softly, sprawled out, taking up two thirds of their large bed. Outside the rain is pouring and Zayn is dying to just hunch over and fall asleep, but several things are keeping him wide awake.

 

First, there’s Louis and the huge fight they had today about his grades of all things, and possible distraction that might be keeping him from studying. Doors had banged and Harry had started crying again, his fever only just retreated. Then, there was Niall, who was so keen on making the school football team that he had ordered a whole gear of shoes, shin-pads and jerseys online beforehand, all in the wrong size and all very pricy.

Zayn had called Liam during one of his meetings and yelled down the line that if he couldn’t keep his credit card in place, he might as well cut it.

 

Adding in to these jumbled thoughts were his hormones, which were raging like the storm outside. Zayn sighs and tilts his head down to get a good look at his gigantic, swollen tummy.

 

He’s eight and a half months into his fourth pregnancy now, and it’s starting to get a bit unpleasant, despite all the experience he can now claim he has.

 

Liam’s rolling over now, throwing an arm in his sleep, hitting Zayn square across his chest. After all these years of marriage, he’s used to Liam’s sleeping patterns by now, but the unexpected blow aches and he’s embarrassed to feel the tears welling up.

 

“Liam.” The rational part of Zayn is shushing himself, but he can feel the tears sliding down his cheeks now, “Liam!”

 

“Wha – what? What?” Liam’s sitting up with a jolt, and Zayn can feel himself smiling involuntarily through the hot liquid in his eyes. “Love, are you – is the baby?”

“I can’t sleep.” Zayn can’t help but feel a little embarrassment at the whiny tone in his voice. “And you just bloody hit me.” 

“Sorry, love.” Liam’s leaning in, still blinking away the heavy sleep, all apologetic and caring. “Hot honey milk? Pop tarts? Pickles?”

Zayn’s stomach lurches at the thought of jars and plates, food piled high. With Harry he’d had a thing for all things soaked in vinegar, with Niall it had been sweets – so much that he vaguely remembered the vomit he’d produced afterwards to be tinted pink. He can’t quite remember what it had been like with Louis.

 

Liam’s pressing his lips to the side of Zayn’s neck, eyes drooping again, breath slow and sleepy. “A couple more weeks…”

“To put me out of my misery.”

“Fourth time you’ve used that line.”

Zayn slides down and whimpers a bit when his spine cracks. “Wednesday’ve got another check-up.” He mumbles against Liam’s shoulder. “Let them tell me the gender.”

“Whatever you want, Zayn.”

 

Zayn turns to look into Liam’s half-lid eyes, the slight crinkle at the edges, his soft furrow of brows. He suddenly knows what will definitely help him go to sleep. Within a few seconds Liam’s caught up, and their lips mold in a soft touch. “The kids…”

“The kids are alright.” Liam’s pushing himself up, moving carefully to avoid crushing Zayn’s abdomen, “asleep.”

“The kids are fine.” And then Zayn’s heavily trying to scoot down his loose pants. He feels flushed already, his blood rushing, and he feels the baby kick.

 

Twice.

 

“Oh.” He can’t help but moan out loud. He’s so sensitive. Liam had been overjoyed when he’d been pregnant with Harry and overwhelmingly horny twenty-four hours a day. Their first little flat had been a literal love-nest, as many of their friends had claimed, mock-disgusted.

“Mummy,” Liam’s murmuring, cock half-hard against a thigh. “Think of our little girl.” He’s drawing gentle circles on the swell of Zayn’s belly.

“Might be yet another boy.” Zayn warns, smiling when Liam pushes his thighs apart in a practiced motion. “We’ll beat the Beckhams to that football squad.”

Liam snorts. Then he kisses Zayn square on his mouth, pushing a finger in.

 

“Shhhh, quiet.”

Zayn bites down on his lip and wonders how something so familiar can still take him by surprise. They’d been partners for so long now, Zayn can’t even remember what it felt like with his last boyfriend before Liam.

But now he’s slick again, burning up like a mild fever, and Liam’s supporting himself on his elbows, hands cupping Zayn’s face. Then he’s pushing in, and Zayn’s gasping for air –

 

“Mummy, the window isn’t closing.”

 

Liam’s quick enough to tuck up the blanket to cover the both of them while Zayn gasps again, this time out of horror. “Honey, what is – what is it?”

“The window.”

“Go back to bed, I’ll – just a second.” Liam’s struggling to get up without exposing anything. “Niall. Back to bed. Now.”

That tone always works, and Niall slips back, out of the door with an unhappy pout, blonde hair tousled. Zayn immediately feels bad, feels the urge to get up and cuddle his middle son to his chest. Niall had been such an unstable child, waking up at all hours. Thank God Harry was past that stage now.

 

“Get up, Li.”

 

Zayn pushes out of bed, the weight of his stomach surprising him anew. “I’ll do it, yeah?”

Liam looks like he’s about to argue, but he’s been married long enough to know better. So Zayn tucks his trousers back up and waddles out the door. Niall’s room is, indeed, chilled with the window cracked open. The child is curled up between the covers, blinking as Zayn stretches up to close the window properly, drawing the space-man curtains along.

 

“Mummy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Does your tummy hurt?”

 

Zayn sits down at the edge of the mattress, feeling the entire thing giving in. “No, Niall. It’s just a little heavy, sometimes.”

Niall mumbles as Zayn draws his fingers through his blonde locks. “No school tomorrow, mum.”

“Still, no sleep, no football.”

“Buy the kit?”

“We’ll see.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Niall to fall asleep, and Zayn hives himself up and checks on his other two sons on his way back. Louis’ agreed to have Harry in his room at night for the last few weeks of his mother’s pregnancy. Rebellious as he might act, he’s still got the heart for his family. He’s sprawled out, phone still in hand, laptop opened on the carpet beneath. Harry’s breathing is deep and rhythmic, his little fists curled up against his favorite blanket.

 

Zayn rests his hand against the swell of his stomach and sighs a little. Four kids. Four.

 

Sometimes he still can’t believe he agreed to this, ever. He’s never considered himself the settle-down-type, not until he was holding Louis’ hand, strolling home from kindergarten, heavily pregnant with Niall. And now, within a few years, Harry will have to share his room with a little sibling. Maybe this one would get Zayn’s hair. Or Liam’s eyes.

 

The bedroom door is slightly ajar, the lamps dimmed comfortably. Liam’s propped up on a few pillows, already half asleep again.

Zayn lets him, tugs himself back under the covers and turns off the light with a click. He’s feeling calmer now, but by no means sleepier. With yet another sigh, he stems himself out of bed again, and slips on a pair of socks.

 

The way downstairs is completely dark. He bumps right into the kitchen and mixes himself a brew of coffee, milk, honey and chocolate. He adds a few spoons of sugar, just for good measure. Then he perches down on the couch and sips, listening to the soft ticking of the clock.

 

“There, baby, mommy’s all up just for you.” He mumbles into the silence, the steam coming out of his favorite mug muddling up his vision. The moisture in his eyes is an immediate cue for more tears. It’s so ridiculous that he chuckles at himself, taking larger gulps, wiping away the salty liquid burning. “Stop being ridiculous.”

 

He mumbles away at himself, occasionally feeling the baby move and kick. At the first rays of dull sunshine he slides sideways and falls asleep with his head tilted in an uncomfortable angle.

 

 

“Honey? Zayn?”

 

Little hands are patting at his cheek, and Zayn subconsciously reaches out, hearing Harry gurgle. “Mommy, up!”

He blinks against the bright light and squints. Liam’s standing in an old T-shirt and boxer shorts, holding Harry out. In the kitchen loud banging can be heard, probably Niall trying to find his breakfast. Upstairs the water is rushing, Louis taking a good, long shower. Zayn vaguely remembers him having a date with Eleanor today, the cinema or something of the like.

 

“God, what time… ?” He sits up, registering his craning neck and soreness in his limbs.

“Time for breakfast. I’m making everybody pancakes.” Liam scoops Harry back up again and walks towards the kitchen. Niall cheers at the prospect of more food and Zayn gives himself a gentle little shoulder massage.

 

It’s rare to see all of them gathered like this. Even Louis sits down for a second to soak a few pancakes in syrup. The talk circles around new name-ideas for their newest family member, and since the gender isn’t known yet, everyone gets to choose a boy’s and a girl’s name. It’s great fun.

“Prudence for a girl, because you’re going to keep her locked up until she’s thirty-five.” Louis’ being mean again, but at least he’s not scoffing off.

“How d’you like Josh, honey?” Liam stands up to stir more batter and grins when Niall jumps in excitement.

“That’s my friend’s name, daddy!”

 

Zayn’s happy, but also incredibly tired. He promises Niall a shopping trip the very next week, asks Louis about homework (and receives no answer besides a sullen glance) and tries to feed Harry bits of pancakes, which he refuses to swallow if it isn’t dipped in enough Nutella.

 

At least he doesn’t have to worry about planning the day. Dates, movies, private football practice with Josh, flower and elephant puzzles. Everyone’s preoccupied.

Liam looks guilty when he announces that he’s going to nip by the office before going grocery shopping, but Zayn just waves him off. He’s heading straight to bed first thing when the dishes are done. He never used to be such a freak for tidying – but being a full-time house wife shaped up his habits, and now he can’t even leave a tiny spot be.

 

The thought tires him even more.

 

He passes Louis on his way back to bed, mussing up his hair with gel and pinching it back into style, expression intensely focused. It makes him look so young and adorable Zayn almost waddles over to cuddle him, but with their parent-child relationship at state, it probably isn’t the best of ideas. Liam is pumping his bicycle tire outside, talking to Mr. Stevenson who is apparently wiping down his car with utmost care. 

 

Zayn sits himself down and stretches his crackling joints. His due date is so damn near now… just a little more time and the baby will be ready. He himself is more than ready to stop looking like a whale and start eating normally again. He also wants to go to football practice with Niall and keep a steady hold on Harry with the new tricycle he’s bound to get for his birthday. He really wants to catch a good night’s sleep and fit into his favorite jeans.

 

Zayn feels himself getting drowsy again, closing his eyes, mind drifting off. He promised to call his mum today, tell her how he’s coming along. She really wanted to move down for some time and help with the kids… God, the house would be stuffed. Also Liam has to get bananas. Did he tell him about the bananas? Zayn imagines himself getting up, lithe and slim, bouncing down the stairs and scooping up Harry, telling Liam in a non-croaky voice that he has to get bananas…

 

“Oh.”

 

Zayn sits up rather abruptly and immediately feels faint. There’s a sudden moisture between his legs, and his eyes widen. “You weren’t due for another two weeks.” He tells his tummy sternly. But the wetness is now spreading out, and he’s already done this too many times to have any more doubt.

 

“Louis! Louis!” The blow-dryer is turned off and his call is returned, though with more of an annoyed edge. “Listen, honey, you’ll need to fetch your dad…”

“What is it now?” Louis pokes his head in, frowning, iPhone in hand. Zayn frowns right back and ponders trading the phones back to the trusty old Nokia. Nothing fancy to tinker with.

“I’m going into labour, go fetch dad already.”

Louis’ eyes widen, and within a split-second he’s out of the door, yelling for Niall to get out of his way on the stair-case. 

 

Zayn lies back and sighs. He can already hear multiple footsteps charging up the stairs, Louis holding Harry and dialing some number, Niall excited beyond comprehension, and Liam scrambling for some balance as they barge in. Downstairs, Mr. Stevenson’s saying something to his wife and Bobby, and Zayn sighs again.

 

“Everyone calm down.” Then he does the breathing exercise from pregnancy class, with his entire family standing around, watching intently. “Okay.”

 

“Let’s have this baby.”


End file.
